Pilates
by moonfaerie326
Summary: Pilates. The way he'd spoken of it had intrigued her, and her intrigue sparked something in him.


**I have had some time guys! Aren't you proud? I sure am, because I have been getting stuff done instead of sulking because I am feeling sad about certain things. And look, I'm writing happy stuff, not sad stuff, which is also a cause to be proud, because it would be so much easier for me to sit down and write stuff that may or may not make people cry. I enjoy writing moving pieces as such. My poems, usually turn out on the sadder side, if any of you have visited my livejournal account ****OR ****my myspace. :] I post them on both usually.**

**PILATES:**

**SUMMARY: **"So no, I did not take a "pilate."" Tony's words had gotten her curious, and in return her curiosity had piqued his own.

Pilates: A method of physical and mental exercise involving stretches and breathing that focus on strengthening the abdominal core.

Pilates. She wasn't quite sure why, but it had intrigued her. It was nowhere near the normal "activities" she would partake in, but Tony seemed to _appreciate_ it, so she figured she could at least give it a try. If all else failed and it turned out to be a complete waste of time, she could always make fun of Tony for admiring it.

She had called about it on Wednesday, she had been at work, and Tony had been otherwise occupied in the head. She quickly and discreetly implored about when the next available class could be. That is how she ended up here, in an old dance studio, on a Saturday morning surrounded by a bunch of chattering women, whom at the moment, she wanted to do nothing more than to maim. She would much rather be participating in something more invigorating.

The instructor explained the stretch they'd be moving into, as if it was something extremely hard to accomplish. With a roll of her eyes, she proceeded to said stretch. She inhaled deeply, bending over so she could touch her fingers to her toes as the instructor had explained. She achieved this with little strain at all, placing her palms flat against the ground and she still had room to bend over more. She couldn't stop her eyes from rolling yet again as she heard the grunts and groans from various women about the room as they strained to touch their toes. Some managed to attain their goal with no noises at all, but they did not do it with her ease or finesse, and that made her proud, if only for a moment.

_Why is this exercise such a big deal among American women? _She found herself wondering. She didn't see how anyone would want to take part in this, when they could be doing something strenuous, something that actually caused the sweat to rise from their skin, their heart to pump and their muscles to strain from the stress. Personally she enjoyed the exhilaration of taking down an opponent. But if she really began to think about it, she didn't all together mind the pleasant pull on her muscles that this "pilates" gave her.

She smiled as she righted herself, taking her deep breath and raising her arms above her head allowing her eyes to fall shut as her right leg lifted to rest against her inner thigh. It was in that moment that her phone rang the shrill tone echoing throughout the mirrored room, seeming ten times louder than it actually was, in the previously quiet room.

Her foot slipped down her leg and her eyes popped open, as she immediately ran towards her bag, which her phone was held in. She ignored the angry murmur of her fellow classmates, instead flipping open her phone and greeting whoever was calling. "David."

The instructor glared at her as she kept the pose, obvious telling her to take it outside but Ziva merely stood there listening to the person on the other end of the phone, while slipping on her shoes. "I will be there in ten minutes, Gibbs." As she was saying this she bent to pick up her bag and slung it over her shoulder before hurrying out of the door, not glancing back at any of the people who were still mid-stretch.

Ziva drove quickly, passing cars that were already going over the speed limit, and cutting into the other lane to get where she wanted to go faster. She made it to the Naval Yard in less than ten minutes.

She typed in her pass-code, and quickly stepped into the elevator, riding the lift up to the bullpen. She hadn't crossed anyone as of yet, as the doors dinged, signaling her arrival to her floor. She stepped out, quickly striding towards her desk. She tossed her gym bag beside her desk, and quickly stripped of her jacket, her back facing DiNozzo's desk. She didn't pay it any attention, figuring she was the first one to arrive, she bent down – an imitation of the stretch she had been doing ten minutes prior-, rifling through her gym bag, pulling out her Sig and her badge, laying them on her desk as she searched for her knife.

"God, I love Saturday's." Came the voice of one Tony DiNozzo from behind her.

She felt a ripple run up and down her spine, causing her body to stiffen and tense. She slowly stood up and turned around, only to find that he was right behind her. "Tony," she greeted, placing her knife on her desk, making sure the blade was facing his direction to threaten him.

Tony ignored it, instead he turned for his desk, peeling off his letterman jacket, and placing his bag down before he turned back to face her again. "Martial arts, again, Ziva?" He questioned, leaning back on his desk. Before she had a chance to reply he continued. "Aren't you ninja enough without doing martial arts on your days off?" He's voice was semi-mocking, and something else.

"I was not doing martial arts, Tony." She stated calmly.

"Karate? Tae Kwon Do? Krav Maga?" He questioned, slightly confused.

"No Tony. None of those." She smirked,

"Well, you're wearing yoga pants, and a tank top. What else would you be doing? I know you're not one to lounge around in your apartment wearing that." He stated, his voice firm as his eyes narrowed in scrutiny. His eyes racked over her still standing form, taking in the toned body hidden underneath that tight clothing. He loved the way the spandex of her yoga pants clung to her form, hugging the curves that she so often kept hidden from him, and everyone else, but mainly him. Her tank top was small, resting just enough above her pants that he could see a thin scrap of toned olive midriff beneath her shirt. Oh how he wished to push that up just a little bit further and run his fingers over her bare stomach. As his eyes raised, taking in her hair which was tied back in a ponytail, he could feel his muscles clench in anticipation, overall he was very much appreciated her attire, making his love for Saturday's increase tenfold.

She stood there watching his eyes rake over her form. She couldn't help the ripple that ran through her as she watched him. She took in his jeans, the way they were loose, but tight at the same time made her mouth water. He looked great in his suit, delectable even, but she couldn't help but to love the moments when she was able to see him laidback like he was on days like these. It helped her to imagine what they could be like, if they were ever to be together, though she knew that that would never be the case. His OSU tee shirt hung from his shoulders, and she could see the hint of his muscled beneath the shirt, she couldn't help the want to run her fingers beneath his shirt, caressing the sinew that lay hidden beneath. Their perusal of the other finished at the same time, and their eyes locked only to have the electricity that seemed ever-present between them, pulse.

"What were you doing then, Zee-vah?" He murmured, his voice a tad huskier.

Ziva's smile had softened, and now it was a mere upturn of her lips, with a soft sensual curve. "Pilates." She stated simply, pulling out her chair and sitting in her chair. She rested her elbows on the edge of the desk and leaned forward a bit so she could study Tony's reaction.

Ziva's words sunk into DiNozzo's mind slowly. _Pilates. _It seemed to ring in his head, as various images of Ziva performing pilate's came to stored the image in the back of his mind, planning on thinking about it again later, when he wasn't standing in the middle of the bullpen.

"Really?" His grin broadened, and a twinkle came to his eyes. "Well. that gets me thinking. When we're done here, we could go do some "pilate's" of our own."

Ziva chuckled slightly. "I am not sure you could keep up. Tony."

"Oh, Ziva. You don't have to worry about me keeping up." He stood staring at her for moment.

"I am sure she doesn't, DiNozzo." He heard just before a hand connected with the back of his head. "But I sure do."

Gibbs walked to his desk, smiling to himself at the antics of his agents. "Gear up." He said, the smile still on his face as he walked out of the bullpen. Gibbs would never tell anyone, but he loved Saturday's as well.

**END.**

**Love it? Hate it? Review it. :] I would like to know what everyone thinks. I really enjoyed writing this, but I always fear I make them WAY to OOC. And I don't want anyone to think its bad because I can't seem to get their persona's down. OH! And I was watching Agent Afloat as I wrote this, and I totally own that purple long sleeve shirt Ziva is wearing on the Seahawk. It made me smile. Of course it doesn't exactly look like that on me, and it's a little bit different [my shirt is more purpley] but it still made me squeal. **

**I've decided I want to get to know my readers and if you don't know what to write in a review I will simply be happy with all of you answering my questions. Though a review would be lovely as well. :] **

**  
So my question now is: Who is everyone's favorite NCIS character? I would also like to know why said person is your favorite if you so feel the need to tell me. :D Hehe. And I spent all of Feb. 3 [my day off] watching Season 5 of NCIS [which I got for xmas]. It was a very good day.**

**Love. Rae.**


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